


Blind Love Summons Heartache

by jackoconnell



Category: Divergent (Movies) RPF, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackoconnell/pseuds/jackoconnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>** kay so i'm obsessed with the divergent series and completely fell in love with the characters as well as the actors (some even way before divergent) & i wanted to come up with a little plot where i could include all of them</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ** kay so i'm obsessed with the divergent series and completely fell in love with the characters as well as the actors (some even way before divergent) & i wanted to come up with a little plot where i could include all of them

It's pouring outside, the rain washing my windows clean. There's a gush of wind in the air and upstairs, I can hear the few branches from the oak tree near my bedroom slap against the windowsill. It's a thunder away from being a storm.

The clouds are hanging low in the darkened sky and the candles strewn about the living room sway to the beat of an invisible force. I dry my hands on the hand-towel after having finished with the dishes and put it back in place. I stop by a window on my way to the bathroom and stare out.

There are no cars outside and no pedestrians. It's far too dangerous. The house across from mine is dark; either the Robinsons never made it home or are embracing this power outage. I'm leaning more toward the former.

I leave the window and walk into the bathroom, turning the shower on. I leave my hand under the sprays until it's deemed hot enough and then hop in. I let the water run down my neck and back, the darkness and the warmth of it all soothing me. All I hear is the rush of water; not the inconsistent pitter-patter of the rain but the calm swooshing of the shower.

After all the lathering and the shampooing, I step out of the shower and dry myself. I run upstairs and change into clean, comfortable clothes. I close my blinds and grab a book. I get comfortable in bed and start reading the first chapter, the three candles by my bedside enough to supply a good amount of light.

 

There's knocking on my door. Surprised, I stare at my phone and take in the time. 11:47 PM. At this time and this weather, who could be at my door? I put down the book and walk downstairs. I peer out the window but because of the rain and the darkness, the person is merely a silhouette.

I open the door and come face to face with her. She has an average built, long honey-brown hair, a slim nose, chipmunk eyes and raspberry lips. Her dress is soaked and it seems too large on her, the dress hanging off her shoulder. She's sporting a look of distress and I notice she's not wearing any shoes.

I open the door wider to get her out of the rain and leave her by the door a few minutes so I can get her a towel. She accepts the towel and nods her thanks. I walk her into the living room, her feet leaving flooded prints down the hall. She sits down on the far corner of the couch and I can't help but notice her shudders.

As precaution, I sit on the other side of the room. She's quiet, her eyes trained on the floor. A lot is running through my mind at the moment. I'm trying to figure her out; why she's here, what got her in this state, why is she barefoot and soaked, where did she come from. All these questions and no answers.

My manners kick in. "Would you like something to drink, to eat?"

She shakes her head without ever looking up. It's silent again, the rain gaining attention. I stare at her matted hair, running mascara, wet skin, soaked dress and blistered feet. It's obvious she's running from something. But from what?

"Would you like to use the phone? Is everything alright?" I ask.

She shakes her head but doesn't utter a word. I'm not sure which question she answered, whether she needs the phone or if she's alright but I don't ask.

The candles are flicking continuously and are creating dancing shadows on her face. A few minutes fly by and neither of us say anything. I'm waiting for her to explain her situation because I'm completely lost.

But she doesn't offer me even a few words. I get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen. I grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it up with water. I walk back to the living room but stop in the doorway. Her eyes are still on the floor but there's movement under the towel she's flung around herself. I realize her eyes are not actually trained on the floor but on whatever is in her lap.

She pulls a cellphone from under the towel and stares at it. A look of horror flashes across her face and she scopes the room. I move back into the hall and hold the glass close to my chest. When I peek into the living room for a second time, she's standing by the window, her back to me. I watch as she opens the window, a current of air bursting into the room, sending the curtain flying. She throws her cellphone out the window and stares it down. I walk into the living and place the glass of water on the little wooden table.

If she hears me coming, she doesn't let on. She closes the window and stands there, her eyes on the sky.

"I brought you a glass of water." I make myself known. She turns around slowly, the towel bundled in front of her, no longer around her shoulders. She walks over to the table and grabs the glass, grateful. She tips her head back and downs the entire thing.

"Would like some dry clothes? You could borrow something from my sisters." I suggest as she awkwardly holds the glass in both hands. Her eyes widen just slightly. She puts the glass down on the table and disposes of the towel.

"I should go." The words are quiet but rushed. Before she can sidestep me, there's a knock on the door. She gasps silently, her feet rooted in place. Her eyes plead with me but I don't understand. I turn around for the door but she grabs my arm, shaking her head. "Please."

She's scared. She's frightened to the core. It hurts me to see her like this, this mere version of the no doubt more vibrant and confident her. Something or someone scares her and I bet I'm about to meet the culprit when I open the door.

"I'll get rid of whoever's behind that door. You have nothing to be afraid of." I whisper. She nods and walks over to the couch, making herself as small as possible.

The knocks increase. I walk over to the front door and peek out the peephole. Where I had suspected a man to be standing is actually a woman. She's holding an umbrella over her head. I open the door. Blonde hair cascades down her shoulders and a stern but polite smile slightly softens her features.

"Hello. I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour but I'm looking for my little girl. I'm afraid she's run away again and I would hate it if anything happened to her. Especially with this weather. Have you seen her? She's about this tall, long brown hair, she's wearing a white dress? We were in the middle of a... dinner recital." Her words seem sincere enough but I can't get the girl's pleading eyes out of my mind.

"I haven't seen her, no. I'll keep an eye out for her."

"Of course. Thank you. Here," she pulls out a card from her coat pocket. "My card. Give me a call if you see her."

I nod and she disappears into the darkness and wetness. I close the door and stare at the card. Mrs. Winslet. Saint Michael's Church Service. I walk back into the living room and find the couch empty. She's not standing by the window, either. I leave the room and enter the kitchen. She's not there. I knock on the bathroom's door but there's no answer. I walk upstairs and find her in the darkened hall.

She's sitting on the ground, her knees pulled into her chest. I kneel before her. "Hey, she left."

"I thought you were going to invite her in." The fear in her voice is evident and she sounds on the verge of tears. I sit down beside her.

"No. I wouldn't do that to you." I sit with her for a while. I watch as she composes herself. "Was she your mother?"

She shakes her head.

I nod. She doesn't trust me enough to elaborate on the issue. I don't blame her. We sit in silence for about half an hour. I stare at the card in my hands and try to make sense of the situation. Does that woman own the church? Does that bit of information have anything to do with this?

She yawns but tries to stifle it. She's unsuccessful. I glance at her and her damp dress. If I suggest her spending the night here will she take offence like last time?

As if she's read my mind, she says, "Are those dry clothes still up for grab?"

I nod. "I'll direct you to the room." She follows me down the hall and around a corner. I open my sisters' door and step aside. "It's fine if you want to shower beforehand. There's a bathroom right there." I point to the adjacent door. She nods and stands in the middle of the bedroom. "I'll be in my room if you need me. Goodnight." I nod one final time and close the door.

I walk into my bedroom and shut the door. I stare at my book on the nightstand. Just two hours ago, the most exciting thing had been this book. I grab it and easily find the bookmark but I'm no longer in the mood. The girl is just a few rooms down. I contemplate the _what, why, how, when, who_ , once more and give up when more questions arise. I put the book back, remember the blow out all the candles in the house and go to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake to a light trickle of rain. The clouds still threaten the sky but appear less aggressive in the morning light. It's 6:23 AM. I can barely keep my eyes open and decide to go back to sleep.

The sound of consistent knocking wakes me up. The rain has dried up and the sun is visible through the thin curtain of cloud. I swing my legs over the bed and walk into my bathroom. I take a quick shower and get dressed.

I check my phone and respond to a few mandatory messages. I walk down the stairs and follow the smell. I enter the kitchen and spot her over the stove. There's a pan in her hand and a bowl full of batter beside her.

She seems to be in better spirits. Her long hair falls down her back and I can smell the faint odour of coconut -- my sister's shampoo. She's wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white flowing shirt. I'm surprised the clothes fit her so well. Her beauty strikes me with a vengeful force. In last night's darkness and urgency, it hadn't occurred to me to notice the little beauty mark by her cheek or the fullness of her lips.

She's humming a tune under her breath as she cooks, unaware of my presence. I notice a plate of pancakes on the side. She flips a pancake once, twice and let's it slide on the ceramic china plate. She lays the spatula down on the counter and turns off the heat. It's when she decides to bring the plate over to the little island in the middle of the kitchen that she notices me.

Her mouth forms a little 'o' and a deep blush follows. I smile at her and whisper a good morning. She notices my wallet and keys on the granite surface of the island and inquires. "Grocery shopping. It's Saturday." I offer as explanation.

She nods, a look I can't quite pinpoint settling on her face. She walks over to a cabinet and pulls out two plates. I'm both impressed and amused she knows her way around already. She pushes my plate toward me and I thank her. I have to admit, it's nice having edible food in the morning for once. We eat in silence and I throw as many subtle glances her way as I can. She makes it extremely easy what with her keeping her eyes on her food at all times.

After breakfast, we both clear our plates and I put the syrup back in the refrigerator. I grab my things and walk toward the door. "You'll be fine here by yourself?"

She follows me but doesn't go further than the end of the hall. She nods but seems hesitant. I'm suddenly afraid to leave her here. It's probably not the most comforting place for her at the moment but I don't know what else I can do.

"Do you wanna come with me?" I suggest. She seems even more hesitant at that. I stand there, unsure. It's her call. I'm fine with either of those circumstances. She's lightly leaning against the wall, her fingers running over the white ten-month-old paint and I know she's made up her mind.

"I'll be back in no time." I say. I open the door and catch sight of Jai Courtney walking down his driveway. He waves a hand at me and I nod in his direction. I turn back around, closing the door halfway. "Jai's a neighbour of mine. His wife is home most of the time with the baby. If... you know, something ever comes up, she's very nice." I stumble over the words, not sure how to phrase them. She nods slowly, a glint of relief behind her green irises.

I step into the chilly morning air. Jai is halfway across the street and when he reaches me, he clasps my shoulder. "That was some storm, huh?" He gives me a pointed look. I nod in agreement. "Hey, where you headed?"

"It's Saturday." I remind him as I make my way toward my car. He follows, eager footsteps behind me.

"Mind if I tag along? I was supposed to meet Ansel for golf but there was a last minute change of plans." He shrugs and hops into my car as soon as I unlock the doors. He takes his seat and rolls down the window.

"Ansel plays golf?" I ask. I insert the key into the ignition and wait for the car to roar to life. I pull out of the driveway, chancing a glance at the kitchen window. The blinds are still drawn and there's no evident movement on the other side.

"No, not really. He's trying to impress this new girl at work."

"So why invite you? I mean, wouldn't a one on one be better for his game?" I inquire. I used to work among Ansel and Jai but got fired when my boss realized most of my answers to customer's complaints were detrimental for the company. I preferred giving people real honest answers instead of sugar-coated and perfectly crafted lies.

"He doesn't want to pressure her. Apparently, she's not very much into the whole dating thing but she _is_ into golfing so he wants to make it seem as if he golfs with me and the rest of fellas all the time." Jai laughs. His hand is out the window, his fingers spread, the wind slipping through the openings.

"What are his chances?"

"Honestly? 67."

"Why so low?"

"Low? I thought I was being generous. She works in the same department as him and while Ansel laughs his days away, she seems more--"

"Serious? Yeah, that traits seems to pop out of people when placed beside Ansel." I turn a corner, the store in view.

"Speaking of Ansel, we're meeting Miles for beers tonight. We're celebrating the end of his exams." Jai tells me. I mentally slap myself on the forehead. I had completely forgotten about Miles.

"Yeah, Ansel told me about that yesterday. I don't know if I'll be able to make it." I look at him briefly. He stares at the side of my face, an odd look on his face.

"Does this have something to do with that girl in your house?"

I almost choke on my spit. A weird cough slash grunt leaves my mouth and while I try to breathe steadily through my nose, Jai reaches over and steadies the steering wheel with one hand. We ease into the store's parking lot and come to a stop. I unbuckle my seat belt and rub a hand over my face.

"That was dramatic." He comments.

"How... How do you know?" I ask a bit winded.

"I saw her. Just this morning. She's a beauty."

I suddenly feel protective over her. "Don't talk about her like that."

Jai raises both his hands. The car idles in the parking lot for a few more seconds. I turn off the engine and climb out of the car. Jai follows my lead and we enter the store. The AC greets us with open arms. I shiver and feel a trail of goosebumps up my neck.

"I need to go shop for my little Rosie. I'll catch up with you later." Jai walks away, grabbing one of those baskets along the way.

I make a mental list of all the things I need and start the hunt. Living alone has its perks but grocery shopping is not one of them.

 

Jai finds me in line. His basket is almost full. Most of his shopping consists of baby food and baby stuff. "How's Rosie doing by the way?" I ask.

"Same as yesterday." He answers. He's busy with his phone.

I try to visit Rosie regularly. I feel honoured to be her godfather. She's the cutest little thing. "Forgive me for asking about my goddaughter."

"Hush for a second, bro. Wifey's calling." He turns slightly to the side and answers the phone. He greets her and usual pleasantries ensure. There are two people in front of us. I go over the list one more time and make sure I have everything. When it's our turn, Jai's still on the phone. I eye the cashier and we exchange exasperated sighs. For difference reasons I suspect.

"Will that be all, sir?" He asks. I nod and pull out my wallet. I pay the respective amount and step aside. Jai reenacts the entire process but with a phone stuck to the side of his face.

We walk out of the store and toward the car. A few feet from the vehicle, he says his goodbyes and hangs up. I put the bags in the trunk and help him with his. "Lily said your girl's over at the house." He says. The words are so casually thrown out of his mouth but my heart doesn't seem to hear the relaxed tone of his voice. It starts beating ridiculously out of time.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, going for the same casual demeanor but failing.

"Seems that way. Lily didn't tell me otherwise."

The drive is short and we're turning into our street before we know it. I can't help but study the surroundings, looking for that one thing that's out of place. But everything _does_ seem fine.

I park in the driveway and walk home with my groceries in hands. Jai crosses the street and does the same. I tell him I'll be right over but it seems I don't have to because the girl comes walking out of his house. She purposefully avoids coming into contact with him and nods her head in acknowledgment before dashing across the street. I wait for her to get inside before stepping in as well. I close the door and walk into the kitchen.

Her footsteps echo through the house as she appears in the doorway. I'm busy putting away the food so I ignore her. When everything is in its rightful place, I turn around and face her. "We need to talk." I tell her. She steps closer, her hands resting on the island. I notice her chipped nails are painted a light yellow.

"I don't mind having you here. I really don't. And if you need to be here for however long, I'm glad to help. But I need to know what's going on. If you ran away, I mean, this could be kidnap for all I know. How old are you?"

She stares at me for a while but whatever resolve she built for herself breaks. "17."

A long sigh leaves my mouth. What did I get myself into? A picture of the card her mother left me flashes through my mind. "This is a kidnap. I've kidnapped you. You... I can't keep you here with me. You need to go home." I leave the kitchen in a hurry and walk into the living room in search of the telephone. I hear her footsteps behind me. There's an urgency to them.

I grab the phone but as I'm about to punch the first number in, I remember I left the card upstairs. I put the phone back in its cradle and turn around. She's staring at me accusingly, her eyes darker than I remember them. I sidestep her and walk up the stairs. I flip my bedroom upside down with the effort but I can't find that damn card anywhere. Then a thought crosses my mind.

I stare at her expectantly. She shakes her head. "I didn't think you would use it but I couldn't risk it."

"Risk what?" I ask.

"You calling her."

"You mean your mother?" She winces at the word. I cross my arms over my chest and bite my tongue.

"She's not my mother." I don't say anything. With each passing second, she seems to become less angry and more desperate. "Please."

"Did someone hurt you?" I ask her. I watch her face carefully, for a sign or slip-up in her facial expression. She doesn't say anything and her face is blank. A perfect poker face. "I can't help you if you don't let me in."

Nothing. I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at her. I feel so limited. What can I do? I can't call her mother or whoever Mrs. Winslet is, she surely wouldn't like it if I called the police and I can't very well kick her out of my house. She's only 17 and clearly needs help.

"Give me a week and I'll be out of your hair." Her voice is small and it seems she's forcing herself to take as less space as possible.

"It's not like that. I'm not trying to get rid of you. I just don't want to blindly help someone."

"I didn't ask for your help.

"It seems you did. Did you think I was going to send you on your way after appearing at my doorstep soaked from head to toe?"

Her nostrils are flaring and after a beat, she storms out of my room and down the hall. I hear her shuffling around and see her zoom past my room a few minutes later. I get up and follow her downstairs, her white dress moving in time with the rush of wind she seems to be leaving in her wake. I see where things are going when she passes the end of the hall and emerges into the foyer. Her hand rounds the doorknob but before she can pull the door open, I press a hand against the door.

"What are you doing?"

She tries the knob anyway but the door doesn't budge. "Leaving. You can't keep me here."

"I thought that's what you wanted."

"Wanted? You think I want any of this? Just leave me alone. Let me go." She shouts, tears brimming her eyes.

"Can we talk about this? I don't feel comfortable leaving you like this." I say. If I let her leave this house, whatever happens to her will be my responsibility. I won't be able to rest knowing she's out there, struggling to find somewhere to stay.

"It would be cruel to inconvenience you." She gives the door another tug but in vain. I think about my next words -- everything I say seems to upset her furthermore.

"Stay. At least until we figure this out. We'll take care of the rest later. But we need to be honest with each other. No keeping secrets." I stare at her pointedly and let my hand fall limp to my side. She releases the doorknob and steps back.

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Her white dress doesn't seem wrinkled from last night's rain like it should. She notices my puzzled expression. "I washed it this morning. I hope you don't mind I used your washing machine."

I shake my head. It's the least of my worries. I take her in; her flushed cheeks, her red nose and her big eyes. This is an innocent kid who felt the need to get out of situation that was probably harmful. I can't blame her for any of this.

"You can trust me." I find myself saying. She stares at me for a few beats than walks in the opposite direction. I run a hand through my hair, the frustration momentarily leave my system as I sigh long and hard.

There's no knowing if what I'm doing is the right thing or the wrong one. I can only trust my gut at this point.


End file.
